


Under the Mistletoe

by softanticipation



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Christmas, F/F, Mistletoe, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 16:52:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9280670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softanticipation/pseuds/softanticipation
Summary: There’s something bubbling just under the surface here, and Christen isn’t sure who is going to address it first. She wants to, is itching to set the plans into motion here, but Tobin beats her to it.Hey, you want to go with me?Christen has to take a second to grin into her coffee cup, but doesn’t bother waiting very long to text back.I’d love to.*A chance encounter leads to something magical.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i know i haven't really posted anything lately, but i've been working on this monster. what was supposed to be a simple holiday oneshot took on a life of its own, but I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out. here's to hoping you're okay with the fact that it's way past christmas and manage to enjoy this anyway!

The truth is, Christen isn’t very good at this whole thing yet. 

She’s set up her apartment quite nicely, spending many evenings and weekends organizing her kitchen cabinets and studiously picking out the perfect shower curtain. She figures that if she’s only got one bathroom in her shoebox of an apartment, she might as well make it the best damn bathroom there ever was. Half of her living room floor is dedicated to the dogs’ beds and she still doesn’t know what to do with the second bedroom – a rare luxury in the city, she’d been told by her realtor – besides use it to store boxes of knick-knacks that her shelves are too full for, but everything is going quite well so far, if she may say so. 

Christen knows where the nearest market is and she goes there to buy fresh flowers that she sets in a clear vase on her kitchen counter. There’s a pharmacy a few blocks down where she picks up tissues whenever her allergies start acting up, and she’s almost positive that a few of her neighbors have started to recognize her. They might mutter a “hi” on their way in or out of the building, when Christen is at her mailbox and anxiously thumbing through the junk mail in hopes of anything with some substance to it. 

So she’s isn’t terrible at this whole thing, but she isn’t very good at it yet. 

She’d moved to the city with tampered stars in her eyes and hopes to which she whispered to calm down. Christen can’t help the excitement, the naivety that comes along with being young and a dreamer and thinking that the world could be at your feet if you wished it to be. After a summer of lonely travel across Central and South America, putting her broken Spanish to use and learning what it meant to live off of dry shampoo and yearn for an air conditioning unit, Christen had packed up her childhood bedroom in her parents’ house and moved across the country. 

Now, thousands of miles from home with a dependable job and her two best friends at her side, Christen is wondering if this is harder than living with permanently frizzy hair was. 

Sure, she’s got her dogs and a job that pays her rent plus some. The three flights of stairs up to her apartment have kept her from putting on weight from all the junk food she’s been eating while she keeps from depressing herself even more by cooking for one. Life isn’t bad. In fact, she thinks as she turns off the heat before hooking the dogs’ leashes to their collars, life is actually pretty good. 

But she feels alone. More alone than she felt traveling the western hemisphere. In a city this big, she sometimes feels like the only person in the world. 

She shakes it off. She blinks and adjusts her jacket, locking her front door behind her while the dogs’ paws clack on the small black and white tiled floor. They’re impatient and it makes her giggle softly as she tries to juggle their leashes while stashing her keys in her bag. They’ve become more trained than ever in the past few months, restraining themselves from bounding forward down the stairs as quickly as possible. They stay at Christen’s side as they walk, measuring their pace with hers and speeding up when she’s trying to jog and make a light before it changes. It makes her smile, the way they’ve adjusted to life in the city as she has. 

It’s not all bad. For every bad thought Christen has, there are two good ones. 

Right now, Christen takes a moment to appreciate the Saturday sun. She sometimes gets a little sad that she works a typical job, Monday through Friday, but she tries to make as much out of her weekends as she can. Now that winter is coming and the sun sets far too early in the evening, she’s become less comfortable venturing out of her apartment at night. So Christen does her best to soak up the weekend sun, taking her dogs to the park and tossing tennis balls for them. Morena is better at retrieving them, which is rather unfortunate since Khaleesi is the faster one who always reaches them first. They’re constantly fighting with each other, and Christen is constantly chasing after the balls, abandoned after the two begin wrestling around. 

Sometimes she’s not sure why she keeps at it, but then the two of them miraculously join forces and bring back a ball or two with their tongues lolling and tails wagging, and she remembers.

“Khaleesi,” Christen chastises as she comes back with a mouthful of dirt. “Get rid of that. Come on, open up. Spit it out.”

Morena takes advantage of the distraction, gracefully trotting along to bring Christen a slobbery tennis ball. It’s cold, the ground frosty and a chance of snow tomorrow. Christen’s never really lived somewhere where it snows, and she’s both freezing and excited about the prospect. She’ll probably end up having a lazy day in her apartment, complete with her heater on blast and hot chocolate in hand. She almost hopes that it snows, just so she has an excuse not to go outside. 

It’s cold outside, numbingly so, but that doesn’t stop people from coming out in droves. There are parents with kids and groups of school aged girls, guys throwing balls and couples on dates. It makes Christen’s heart ache a little, but she just lets Khaleesi slobber all over her face. 

“Easy on the dirt kisses,” Christen mutters as she runs her hand along the length of Khaleesi’s back. “They’re smelly. You’re going to need a bath when we get back. Why can’t you be more like your sister?”

Morena circles Christen slowly, waiting for her to throw the ball again. Christen is tired though, sitting cross-legged on the frozen ground and wondering if maybe she should find one of those wrought iron benches to sit on. It certainly seems more appealing, and perhaps getting up and moving instead of staying stuck to the same place will help warm her up. So she gets up and attaches her babies’ leashes, letting them trot alongside her to the main path. It’s wide, dotted with food carts and strollers and other dog walkers. She keeps an easy pace, eyes searching for an empty bench and maybe a food cart with snacks that the dogs can eat too. They’ve got to be hungry after all this running around. 

But Khaleesi is easily distracted, head turning to take in every other living creature as they meander along. Just as Christen spots the ideal bench, empty and sitting in a warm bath of sunlight, her younger puppy decides she’d rather bark at a human and dig her heels in instead of help out the hand that feeds her. Christen huffs, breath hot and visible in the icy winter air, and tries to tug Khaleesi along. 

“Come on,” Christen whines softly as Morena joins her sister, trying to figure out what the holdup is. “Don’t do this to me now.”

But Khaleesi is determined and it’s obvious why – the human is cooing at her, waving awkwardly and clearly fawning over the dogs in the park. Christen isn’t sure who spotted each other first, but then the human is stepping off the grass and onto the paved road towards Christen – or rather, Morena and Khaleesi. 

“Can I say hi?”

The human is a girl – woman, rather – who looks to be about Christen’s age. She’s a little breathless, with windblown hair and chapped pink lips. Dressed casually in running gear, she still manages to look good enough to stun Christen into silence. Thankfully, Morena does the talking for her, barking once, twice, before stepping forward to nudge the girl’s thigh with her wet nose. 

Christen shakes her head. 

“Yeah, sure,” she says. The girl smiles – her teeth are white and even, and her smile is nothing short of perfect – and Christen does her best to smile back, suddenly painfully self-conscious. Sure, people have come up many times to pet her dogs, sometimes asking first and sometimes not, but something about this girl feels different. 

“They’re so beautiful, I couldn’t stop staring,” the girl says, dropping down to crouch with the dogs, smiling up at Christen as she scratches behind Morena’s ears. Khaleesi whines, bumping into her sister and clearly displeased with being neglected. “Come here, I got you too,” the girl says to Khaleesi, bringing up her other hand to smooth along the dog’s back. 

“They’re sisters,” Christen says, knowing that the questions about the dogs are inevitable. “Morena is older, and this crazy one here is Khaleesi.”

“I’ve never seen the show,” the girl says instantly, apologetic but in a way that tells Christen she never will see the show. “Great name, though.”

“Thanks,” Christen says, and she feels a little awkward, looking down at the scene in front of her.

“So do you come here often?” the girl asks conversationally, and Christen bites her lip. It almost sounds flirtatious, but it wouldn’t make any sense if it was. As she elaborates and her intentions becomes clearer, Christen’s nerves feel more at ease. “Just because I run this trail like, every day, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you or these beauties before.”

“I work Monday through Friday,” Christen explains. “And this is a little earlier than I usually come to play with them on the weekend.”

“Explains a lot,” the girl says with another grin before straightening up. “I’m Tobin.”

“Christen.”

“Really nice to meet you,” Tobin says earnestly. Her voice, while laid back, still conveys a level of enthusiasm that makes Christen believe her. Tobin is a bit of a funny name, Christen thinks, but it suits her as she reties her ponytail and bounces on her feet, wearing brightly colored running shoes that completely clash with her clothes. On anyone else it might look ridiculous, but Tobin somehow pulls it off. “Thanks for letting me pet your doggies.”

“Oh, no problem,” Christen says with a wave of her hand. “They loved it. Look, Khaleesi doesn’t want you to go.”

True enough, Khaleesi is licking at Tobin’s hand, much to Christen’s embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry, she’s normally better behaved than this,” she says quickly, trying to pull Khaleesi back by her collar. “Come on, leave Tobin alone.”

“I don’t mind,” Tobin says, going back to pet her again. “I don’t want to say goodbye either.”

Christen isn’t sure if it’s the loneliness that makes her say what comes next, but it’s rather out of character for her. 

“I was just going to sit down with them,” she says, gesturing towards the miraculously still-vacant bench she was eyeing earlier. “If you wanted to join. They’re good with people and I don’t mind.”

Tobin’s eyes light up, and it’s with almost childlike wonder. 

“Yeah, of course,” she says, nodding along. “I would love to. I’m finished with my run and – do you maybe want a coffee first? I was just going to grab one.”

Christen nods and Tobin pulls a few bills from a hidden pocket in her jacket, telling Christen to worry about the dogs while she worries about the coffee. She can’t help but worry though, wondering why such a cool, laidback person is hanging out with her on a Saturday morning when she could surely be doing anything else. There’s a reason she hasn’t made any real friends in the city yet, she thinks, and it’s not for a lack of trying. As she sits down, Christen worries that Tobin isn’t coming back. That she’s left for good, never to return again. 

Thankfully, Christen is wrong. 

Tobin comes back five minutes later, one hand holding both coffees while the other swings at her side. 

“I almost don’t remember a time when I didn’t love coffee,” Tobin comments as she flops down on the bench. Christen maneuvers the leashes into her left hand, leaving her open to take one of the cups from Tobin. She might be wearing gloves, but the cup is still thankfully warm against her fingers. It makes Christen wonder if this is really the best idea, hanging out in the cold just because someone is hanging out with her, but she just brings the cup to her mouth and tells herself that this might be worth it. It might be worth making a friend with someone who seems to be interested.

“My dad introduced me to it in high school,” Christen tells Tobin after her first sip, too hot and leaving her tongue burning, just the way she likes it. Still, she waits before trying again. “My mom was so mad, told him that I didn’t need to get addicted at such a young age.”

“Your mom was right,” Tobin remarks, eyeing Christen over the top of her cup. “Did you get addicted?”

“Unfortunately,” Christen says with a sigh, forcing herself to look away from Tobin’s warm eyes. “I kind of need it to function. Definitely one of those people who needs it in the morning before talking to anyone.”

“I’ll remember that,” Tobin hums as she takes another sip, seemingly unaffected by how scorching the coffee still is. 

“What about you?” Christen asks, and it feels a little lame to be making small talk like this, but it’s better than nothing. “What are you like without your coffee?”

“I can function without it, if that’s what you’re asking,” Tobin says cheekily, and Christen laughs unsteadily. “No, I mean, I probably didn’t get into it until college. Those all nighters really get to you.”

“So you’re telling me that you can’t remember a time before college?” Christen teases, praying that Tobin doesn’t take it the wrong way and get offended. 

The opposite happens – it takes Tobin a moment for the joke to register, but when she does, she bursts out laughing. She laughs with her entire body, a deep belly laugh as she brings her legs up, body curving in on itself. It’s encouraging and Christen laughs softly, going in for more coffee as she watches Tobin’s laughter slowly subside. 

“Sorry,” Tobin says, a wide grin stretching over her face as she gets comfortable again, this time with her legs crossed under her and torso angled towards Christen. The dogs lay down under the bench, content to rest while Christen and Tobin talk. “I tend to laugh a lot.”

“That’s okay with me,” Christen assures her. “Be careful though, I might start thinking that I’m actually funny.”

“Maybe you are,” Tobin says with a shrug and a smile. “Don’t discount yourself here.”

Christen just smiles in return.

“Thank you for the coffee,” she tells Tobin after a few minutes of silence. “I was really craving hot chocolate earlier, but this coffee is pretty good.”

“Kiosk in the park!” Tobin says proudly. “I usually stop by after my morning runs.”

Relief washes over Christen.

“I was worried that I was like, inconveniencing you,” Christen admits. 

“What?” Tobin asks. “No, definitely not. I wouldn’t have suggested coffee if I didn’t want to.”

“Yeah, but I’m the one who invited you to stay with me and the girls,” Christen says, glancing down at where Morena is practically snoozing away. “And now look, we’ve practically abandoned them.”

“I won’t tell them if you don’t,” Tobin says, dropping her voice in volume and looking at Christen conspiratorially. She tries to wink but fails, ending up looking like she has a bit of a twitch. Christen has to stifle a giggle, and Tobin tries to pout before breaking out into a bit of an embarrassed laugh.

“I’m sorry,” Christen says, wondering how much she should bother resisting this weird sort of connection they’re forming. It feels almost too easy, the way conversation flows and how they’ve seemed to click almost instantly. Part of her is sure that this will end soon, as in immediately after they go their separate ways, but the hopeful part of her that always seems to win out is thinking that maybe she’s finally done it. 

Maybe she’s finally found herself a friend. 

“I’m not like, trying to offend you,” Christen tries to clarify. 

“I’m not offended,” Tobin tells her. “I’m just wondering why I didn’t think of hot chocolate earlier. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since you mentioned it.”

“Oh,” Christen says. “I mean, the coffee did the job. Warmed me up like I needed.”

“Yeah, but it’s the holidays,” Tobin says with bright eyes. “Think about how good hot chocolate would be right now.”

“It would be,” Christen agrees. “Honestly, I’m not used to this weather. I was totally planning on going back to my apartment and parking myself in front of the heater with a giant mug of hot chocolate and marshmallows.”

“That actually sounds perfect,” Tobin says with a wistful sigh. “God, I’d do the same but my kitchen is totally empty right now. I’ve been putting off a grocery run so bad.”

Christen bites her lip. She can either politely point Tobin in the direction of the nearest Starbucks, encourage her to go grocery shopping before the snow hits, or she can do the unthinkable and invite her over. 

Of course, she goes with another option. 

“Sometimes you find the best hot chocolate mix at those expensive specialty stores,” Christen says helpfully. “And I always use milk, not water, no matter what.”

“Interesting,” Tobin says, nodding. 

“I’ve only got the basic stuff, but Starbucks actually has decent hot chocolate,” Christen keeps rambling, hoping that maybe Tobin will put her out of her misery and leave. “I’m sure other stores do too, but I’m still new here so I’m not the person to ask.”

“The basic stuff is still good,” Tobin says before tilting her cup to her lips and swallowing. 

Christen takes her own long sip before continuing. 

“Yeah, I mean they sell it pretty much year round anywhere they sell food, so you should be able to get some whenever you want.”

“Christen,” Tobin says not unkindly. “Just invite me over.”

She jumps in response, wondering if she’s that horribly obvious. 

“We both want to,” Tobin points out. “I mean, you’ve got a heater and hot chocolate. I’m cold and a little thirsty. Sounds like a perfect match to me.”

Christen wants to say yes, but she’s thinking of her messy apartment and the lack of Christmas spirit and how her loneliness has started creeping into every corner of her life and she doesn’t want Tobin to see all of that. Besides, they’ve only just met, and as much as she wants to welcome this tentative friendship with open arms, she’s wondering what a girl as cool as Tobin is up to, her schedule apparently wide open the weekend before Christmas. It’s a little suspicious but Christen decides not to question it right now, carefully nodding and letting her smile slowly grow. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Christen gives in. “If you want to, I’m okay with it.”

“Besides,” Tobin says with a smile, leaning down to scratch Morena’s head. “These little guys have got to be getting cold, right?”

Christen nearly snorts – the dogs aren’t little at all – but just finishes her coffee as Tobin does the same, both of them clearly eager to get out and continue with the next part of their day together. 

*

The first thing Christen does when they get to her apartment is apologize. 

“I know it’s a little small and I’m still trying to move in,” she babbles, letting the dogs free as she closes the front door and sheds her outerwear. “But it’s affordable and in a good neighborhood so I don’t have to worry about walking the dogs alone at night. Also, the view doesn’t totally suck, which makes up for the lack of elevator. Sorry about that, by the way. I was going to warn you about all the stairs but you were wearing sneakers so I figured you wouldn’t mind too much.”

“Christen,” Tobin says, holding her own jacket in her arms to reveal a slim-fitting long-sleeved athletic top.

“Sorry,” Christen says, darting around Tobin. “I know, the heat. Sorry, I know it’s cold in here.”

“No, not that,” Tobin says. “It’s just – nowhere in the city is really affordable.”

She’s cracking a joke and it helps ease the tension in Christen’s shoulders. The two of them laugh for a minute, breaking the ice all over again as they swing their jackets over the backs of a couple of chairs before heading into the kitchen. It isn’t long before they’re both armed with quickly made mugs of hot chocolate complete with giant marshmallows – Tobin recommends whipped cream for the next time around, something she says with complete nonchalance as if there’s not a doubt in the world that there will be a next time – and the dogs are doing their own thing, ignoring the humans that are becoming ensconced in their own little world.

“So tell me about you,” Tobin says as she brings her legs up under her, curled up into the far corner of Christen’s loveseat. Christen can’t decide whether Tobin sits like this normally – she looks quite comfortable, and it’s how she was sitting in the park – or if she’s trying to maintain as much space between them as possible. She’s attractive, Christen thinks with a pang, with her lanky body and socked feet. She’d kicked off her shoes after she’d gotten rid of her zip-up jacket, and Christen can’t stop staring at the outline of her sports bra through her thin shirt. Her hands wrap around her mug, encompassing the chipped ceramic and covering the LACMA logo. With her hair tied up into a funny half bun and smelling of deodorant instead of any kind of sweat, Christen is wondering if she’s even real. She’s on her couch and humming along to some kind of tune that only she can hear, but Christen is still doubting everything here. 

It seems a little too good to be true. She’d woken up this morning with almost zero expectations, only hoping for a little snow at some point this weekend, and now she’s here with a potential friend in her apartment. 

“What do you want to know?” Christen asks.

“Anything you’re willing to tell me,” Tobin says with a shrug. “How about – is this mug a souvenir or a little reminder of home?”

“A reminder of home,” Christen says, smiling at the mug Tobin holds. “I’m from LA.”

“Sisters? Brothers? Only child?” Tobin guesses.

“Two sisters,” Christen answers. “I miss them, but I’ve always been a bit of a dreamer I guess.”

Tobin nods into the mug, eyes fluttering shut for a second as she takes a sip. 

“I figured that to be here all by yourself, you must be,” Tobin says, and even though it’s a fair assessment, it bothers Christen. She wonders if her loneliness is that apparent, that Tobin can read it after just an hour or so. “Like, I lived with my sister my first few years in the city.”

“How was that?” Christen asks. 

“Had to move out after she got engaged,” Tobin says, pulling a face. “I mean it was fine while it lasted, and I kind of miss it. We’re not from here so it kind of felt like I always had a little piece of home no matter what, you know? Like I didn’t have to ever make myself a home.”

“And now?” 

Tobin hums, on-tune and calming. It sounds like a Christmas song, whatever she’s humming, but Christen can’t quite decipher it as she waits for Tobin to respond. 

“Now I’m trying,” Tobin says finally, brown eyes finding Christen’s. She suddenly looks a little more guarded, but sits just as comfortable and relaxed as she has been, like not much has changed, and it’s mildly reassuring. “I’m trying to make myself a home.”

Christen doesn’t know how long Tobin has been on her own, or if she even is on her own – a horrifying thought in the back of her mind that she can’t quite shake – but she figures that the least she can do is a little sharing in return. 

“I spent the first half of the year traveling Central and South America,” she offers. 

“With who?” Tobin asks, eyes alight with interest.

“Me, myself, and I,” Christen says, and she’s surprised by the surprise in Tobin’s eyes. 

“Alone?” Tobin asks. “What, no one you wanted to go with you?”

“It’s not exactly something most people can fit into their schedules,” Christen explains, and Tobin nods in sudden understanding. “My one sister came to visit while I was in Colombia, and my parents hung out with me in Belize for a little bit. But it was something I always kind of dreamed of doing – traveling. You know?”

“I do know,” Tobin says, nodding earnestly. “I spent a month in Europe after I graduated college.”

“But now I’m here,” Christen says, and she puts her hot chocolate down on the coffee table as Tobin’s eyes stay on her face. “And I guess I’m still trying to adjust.”

Tobin doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Christen worries that maybe she’s said too much. Maybe she’s given up too much too soon, considering how her and Tobin barely know each other. 

“Well,” Tobin says firmly, setting her hot chocolate down as well. “You know how to make a place a home?”

“How?” Christen asks, a little wary of taking such advice from a person who admittedly hasn’t accomplished this particular task.

“You decorate it for the holidays,” Tobin says as though it’s obvious, and maybe it is. “Come on, don’t you like Christmas?”

“I love it,” Christen says, and her brain stutters a little while thinking about what the holidays mean for her this year, but she means it. “Always have. Favorite time of the year, actually.”

“So let’s make it look like it!” Tobin says enthusiastically, spreading her arms out and gesturing to the nice but not-very-seasonal living room décor. “Come on, you’ve only got a week left. Might as well make it look like it’s December, right?”

“You might be onto something here,” Christen says, grinning a little as Tobin stands up, playing with her half-bun as she surveys the room. 

“Come on,” Tobin says, extending a hand towards Christen. “I’m kind of an expert with this kind of stuff. I’ve got an enormous live Christmas tree and my sister has already bought all of us matching pajamas for Christmas morning. You can trust me on this.”

Christen bites her lip, looking at Tobin’s hand and wondering whether she should take the jump here. She’s been holding back this holiday season, bummed out and wallowing in self-pity without even realizing it, but maybe Tobin’s here to change that. If only Christen lets her.

Tobin wiggles her fingers expectantly, and Christen sighs exaggeratedly with a reluctant smile on her face as she takes it. Her hand is warm and large against Christen’s palm, helping her get to her feet – not that Christen needs help anyway, something that Tobin surely knows. Still, Tobin doesn’t let go, not until Christen is already on her feet and looking at her expectantly. Tobin holds on loosely, smiling at Christen softly before finally releasing her fingers. 

“Come on,” Tobin says, jerking her head towards the front of the apartment. “I think I know I place not too far away where we can go.”

*

A few hours later, and Christen’s apartment looks like it’s been hit by a Christmas tornado. 

There are tiny twinkly lights everywhere, a small fake tree hung with silver and gold ornaments, and most importantly, three stockings hanging from the kitchen counter overhang – Christen hadn’t been able to forget about Morena and Khaleesi, and Tobin hadn’t even questioned it. Tobin had led her to the cutest little store, almost reminiscent of Ikea in the way it was organized cleanly, cheap miscellaneous items grouped into white bins and on white shelves. 

“I come here for all the seasonal stuff,” Tobin had explained upon entering. “My sister was the one who found it first and we come here together for every holiday.”

Now, she’s using her teeth to try and rip open a bag of miniature candy canes and dump them into a bowl on the kitchen counter and Christen is protesting. 

“Wait until I find some scissors,” she begs through laughter as Tobin curses, failing once again and holding up the bag to examine. 

“This isn’t normal plastic,” Tobin says determinedly, blowing a fallen strand of hair out of her face. “It’s got to be, like, super reinforced.”

“If you could just be a little patient,” Christen says, opening another drawer and searching through a mess of pens and rubber bands. Normally she’s much more organized than this, but she’s pretty sure the was using the scissors for something the other day and she can’t remember for the life of her where she left them. “I don’t want you to ruin a tooth or something.”

“I don’t need scissors,” Tobin says determinedly, going back to try again. 

“Come look in bedroom with me,” Christen says, rolling her eyes. “I think I was cutting the tags off some new shoes when I needed them.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tobin says, obedient and teasing and it makes Christen giggle, reaching out to tuck a hand into the crook of Tobin’s bent elbow. Her skin radiates warmth, even through the fabric, and Christen thinks for a second how she wishes she wasn’t a thin-blooded Californian.

“Don’t call me ma’am,” Christen warns, but the effect her stern tone has is ruined when Tobin grins at her through a mouthful of plastic bag. She can’t help but hold on though, pulling Tobin down the narrow hallway even though Tobin goes easily. It’s not until she has to start sifting through the stuff on her dresser that she lets go, Tobin immediately flopping down on the unmade bed. 

“Nice room,” Tobin says, eyes roving the small space. It’s barely big enough for a dresser, bed, and nightstand, but it’s enough for Christen. There are books stacked in the corner of the room and too many photos tucked in the frame of the mirror hanging over the back of the closet door. Christen can’t paint the white walls but has hung as many pretty posters as she can without letting it look like a dorm room, and her bed might be a mess but the rest of it is relatively organized and clean. 

“It gets the job done,” Christen says, suddenly embarrassed to have forced Tobin back here. She almost apologizes for it, but then catches the scene out of the corner of her eye in the mirrors reflection – Tobin lounging on the bed with the giant bag of candy, looking comfortable where she is as she gazes at Christen whose hands have faltered – and thinks that maybe there’s nothing to apologize for. Maybe Tobin wants to be here. 

It’s a funny thought, but it’s been hours of traversing the city’s terrain, braving the cold just to bring a little Christmas cheer to Christen’s apartment, and Christen might not know Tobin very well, but she doesn’t seem to be the type of person to waste her time on something she doesn’t care about. She seems genuinely nice and interested in helping Christen out with something that isn’t important at all, and it feels a little too good to be true. 

Christen finds the scissors tucked behind a picture frame and pulls them out with a flourish. 

“Look!” she says proudly, brandishing them towards Tobin who is suddenly frozen, looking guilty as she tears her mouth away from the bag. 

“I think I just got it,” she says sheepishly, and sure enough, when she turns the bag upside down and gives it a shake, a few individually wrapped candy canes come falling out. “But keep those ready in case I can’t get these suckers open.”

They’re easy to tear into though, and Christen carefully makes her way onto the bed to sit cross-legged next to Tobin as they eat the candy. Christen takes her time with them, carefully sucking away while Tobin opts for more of a chomping tactic. There isn’t much talking, the quiet interrupted only by Tobin’s crunching and the soft rustling as Khaleesi comes wandering in and then out of the room. Eventually Tobin breaks the silence, and Christen gets the impression that she’s never been silent for so long before. 

“I’ve had a really great day today,” Tobin says earnestly, rolling onto her stomach and crushing a few candy canes beneath her in the process. She looks up at Christen, and something about it send Christen’s insides fluttering. 

“Me too,” Christen says, suddenly feeling a little shy. 

“You needed a little Christmas up in here,” Tobin jokes, and Christen lets out a short, nervous laugh. 

“Thank you,” Christen says softly. “You really didn’t have to do all this. You only wanted to pet my dogs, you didn’t have to stick around for the entire day.”

“I wanted to,” Tobin says. “Trust me, the dogs were just the icing on the cake. You’re kind of way more entertaining than they are.”

“Don’t let them hear you say that,” Christen says darkly, making Tobin laugh. 

“I hate this, but I do have to go,” Tobin says, finally looking away and pulling out a phone from her waistband. “I think my sister has texted me about a million times, and if I don’t answer soon, she’s probably going to start trying to track me down.”

“Oh!” Christen says, sitting up straighter and feeling a little flustered. “I didn’t mean to like, keep you or anything.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Tobin says with a shrugs, stretching her long limbs across the length of Christen’s bed and letting out a lazy yawn. “It’s just that I told her I’d do dinner and wrap presents with her. She made me go shopping with her early so that I wasn’t waiting until the last minute like always.”

“Why does that not surprise me about you?” Christen asks rhetorically as they both slowly get up from the bed, reluctant to leave the little cocoon of warmth that they’ve managed to create. 

“I’m totally the type of person who is at the stores on December 23,” Tobin admits shamelessly. “And while everyone else is having eggnog and hot chocolate, I’m wrestling with the tape dispenser and trying to pay off my mom to do it all for me.”

Christen laughs, her belly aching with the force of it, and it occurs to her that she can’t remember the last time she laughed so much and so hard. Something about Tobin feels for her soul, her wellbeing. Tobin feels like a friend, like a steady and comforting presence. She waits as Tobin gathers her things, stealing a few candy canes for the road, all the while talking and giggling at each other. Things flow easily between them, something Christen vaguely recognizes and appreciates, and it has her feelings like she needs to be a little careful. She needs to do this right, needs to be a good friend and keep this good thing going. 

“Walk me out?” Tobin asks brightly as she finishes pulling a few fallen strands of hair out from under her jacket collar. 

“Was planning on it,” Christen answers, and truly, she was. She wants to soak up every moment she can with Tobin, someone she met less than twelve hours prior but feels like someone she’s known for years. 

The stairs are steep but sturdy and they make their way down, with Tobin texting her sister that she’s on her way over and Christen staring at her phone wistfully. It occurs to her that if she doesn’t speak up soon, she could lose this feeling, this connection, forever. Part of her is wondering why Tobin hasn’t asked yet, but Christen takes her time during the last flight of stairs to build up her confidence and do something that she’s not very good at doing: making the first move. 

But then Tobin is whooping out, pumping her fists in the air as she bolts forward, out through the building entrance and onto the stairs. Christen, feeling rather alarmed, hurries out after her. She nearly runs right into Tobin’s back, catching herself at the last moment, but her breath catches in her throat as she gets her bearings.

“Christen!” Tobin says delightedly. “Look!”

It’s snowing, little white flakes falling delicately from the sky. It’s just starting, small puddles of wetness and shallow patches of slush gathering on the ground, but it’s snowing. 

It’s snowing. 

“Tobin, it’s snowing,” Christen says in disbelief, so entranced that she can’t even feel the cold through her sweater and thick socks she’d come down in, convinced that she’d just be walking Tobin to the door before saying goodbye. It feels a bit like a miracle, the way the snow catches the last of the day’s light as it comes down, like the perfect ending to the most curiously perfect day. 

“I know,” Tobin says, sounding strangely proud and in awe. “Look at it. This has got to be your first snow in the city, isn’t it.”

It’s a statement, like Tobin just knows beyond a shadow of a doubt, and Christen just nods as Tobin turns to look at her. 

“I hope it snows all night,” Tobin says, rubbing her hands together. 

“Tobin,” Christen says, feeling choked up. “Tobin, I’ve never really seen snow.”

Tobin’s mouth kind of drops open in surprise but she gathers herself quickly. She reaches down for Christen’s hand, holding it tight in hers. 

“Just stand here with me for a moment,” Tobin says, and Christen can barely hear thanks to the blood roaring in her ears. “Just soak it all in.”

The wetness and cold slowly come seeping through and Christen does her best not to shiver, torn between focusing her attention on either Tobin or the snow. Tobin’s hand is warm and grounding, while the snow is cold and enchanting. It’s an addictive combination, and Christen takes in deep breaths to calm herself, to hopefully help slow her frantic heartbeat and crazy thoughts. A girl is holding her hand – a very attractive girl, at that – and she’s experiencing her first snow and well, really, Christen isn’t quite sure how she got here but she isn’t about to complain. 

“I want more,” Christen says, tearing her eyes from where the snowflakes hit the ground to where Tobin is watching her with a funny smile. “More snow.”

Tobin laughs loudly, the sound reverberating along the relatively empty street. 

“All in due time,” she tells Christen. “Give it a chance to really get going.”

“Alright,” Christen says with a grin. “Luckily, I’m a pretty patient person.”

“You must be if you’ve managed to go all this time without a single snowfall,” Tobin remarks, squeezing Christen’s hand tightly before letting it fall from her grip. 

“Tobin!” Christen says desperately. 

“Yeah?” Tobin asks, a little bemused. 

“I need your phone number.”

It comes out as a demand rather than a request, and it makes Tobin bark out a laugh as Christen tries not to shrink back in sudden embarrassment. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Tobin teases. “Alright, if you insist.”

“Tobin,” Christen manages to squeak out. 

“Fine,” Tobin says, gently putting her phone in Christen’s hand. “I know, I meant to ask. But I thought that maybe we’d be lucky enough to magically find each other again in the park.”

Christen gives Tobin a stern look as she taps her number in before handing the phone back. 

“Just kidding,” Tobin clarifies as she saves the number. “I was going to, I swear. Here, I’ll text you now.”

“I left my phone upstairs.”

“Text me when you get back up,” Tobin suggests. “Let me know you’ve made it home safely.”

Christen tries not to smile, but around Tobin, it’s fruitless. 

“Alright, get out of here,” Christen says reluctantly. “Go see your sister.”

“Text me,” Tobin makes Christen promise as she starts down the steps to the sidewalk, head angled so she can still look at Christen as she talks. “Okay?”

“I will,” Christen promises. “As long as you text me back.”

“Let’s do this again!” Tobin calls out as she keeps going, down the street. Christen watches for as long as she can, until Tobin is out of sight. 

There’s a text waiting for her upstairs. 

_Chin up, buttercup. Let’s do this again. Soon._

Christen isn’t sure whether to laugh or cry, so she sits herself in front of a window to watch the snow fall and settles for both. 

*

If there’s one thing that surprises Christen, it’s how frequently Tobin begins texting her within the next few days. 

Christen spends a good portion of Sunday on the phone with her family, hoping it makes her feel better. Of course it does nearly the opposite, and she ends up taking the dogs for a long walk around the city, boots covered in snow and fingers frozen inside knit gloves. Then there’s a trip to get food, and Christen orders takeout from her favorite restaurant that gets to her doorstep just five minutes after she finishes putting groceries away. It’s a decent day, quiet and full of gazing at the snow, cuddling with the dogs, and feeling her heart jump into her throat every time her phone vibrates. She wants it to be from Tobin, wants to know that she’s being remembered, wants the reassurance that she wasn’t the only one cognizant of the connection between them. 

With Monday comes work, and Christen goes in with a quiet sort of enthusiasm. She works harder than usual, but with that comes frequent breaks to check her phone. Tobin’s responses never seem to lag and they never run out of things to talk about. Even once Christen gets to leave the office, Tobin stays with her. Tobin is there while Christen makes macaroni and cheese for dinner and while she takes the dog for an evening walk, Christen fumbling with the phone, her gloved hands, and controlling the dogs as she makes her way through the streets. The last of the snow is melting – there hadn’t been much, just enough for Christen to wish she had someone to play around in it with. 

On Tuesday, Tobin mentions Christmas and Christen navigates the subject carefully. She keeps things focused on Tobin’s family traditions, listening to her plans for the weekend and trying to ignore the irrational pangs of jealous as Tobin talks about holiday parties and going home. Halfway through her third cup of coffee of the day – talking to Tobin all day means staying up late because neither of them want the conversation, and Christen hasn’t gotten so few hours of sleep since college – she gets a text from Tobin that makes her hesitate before responding. 

_I know you’re not a tourist, but you’ve at least been to Rockefeller, right?_

It’s a bit of a miracle when Christen ventures out of her little neighborhood so she debates her response for a moment before another text from Tobin pops up. 

_Because it’s kind of a dream. I’ve lived here for a few years now and I still like to go once a year if I can._

Christen decides not to lie or make any excuses as she types out a reply. 

_Never been but it looks amazing. I should really start taking advantage of where I live, huh?_

Tobin doesn’t take long to text back. 

_I haven’t been this year and I’m kind of bummed about it._

There’s something bubbling just under the surface here, and Christen isn’t sure who is going to address it first. She wants to, is itching to set the plans into motion here, but Tobin beats her to it. 

_Hey, you want to go with me?_

Christen has to take a second to grin into her coffee cup, but doesn’t bother waiting very long to answer. 

_I’d love to._

They make plans for that night, with Christen stopping briefly at her apartment to change clothes and let the dogs out before heading back onto the frigid city streets. Winter hangs in the air, burning Christen’s sinuses in the best way as she hurries to the warmth of the subway. It’s a bit of a trek downtown, but Christen is bouncing on her toes the entire time. Tobin had readily agreed to ice skating once Christen had suggested it, despite concerns about long lines. They could spend the time in line talking to each other, Tobin had texted. 

It feels like a date, Christen thinks, as she texts Tobin to find out where to meetup. She doesn’t dare voice her thoughts, but this whole things reeks of such a situation. Part of her wonders what it is going to be like, to see Tobin again after exchanging countless silent thoughts and sharing things that don’t always come naturally – such as how Christen grew up wanting a dog but never had one, leading to her rushing off to get Morena as soon as possible, or how Tobin sometimes wishes she wasn’t the sort of person who was perfectly comfortable in foreign situations. Christen wonders if it will feel weird or if things will flow easily, the time apart bringing them closer together. 

But Christen tells herself to calm down, to temper her expectations as she so often needs to. Tobin is just a tentative friend for now, someone she wants to be able to call her friend for months and hopefully even years to come. She doesn’t want Tobin to leave her life, so Christen reminds herself to hold onto that throughout the night. 

Of course, such a thing is near impossible as Tobin appears, radiant with wind-burned cheeks and a knit beanie on her head that looks homemade. It makes Christen laugh, the way that they’re both wearing leggings and leather jackets and in black from head to toe, but she swallows her laugh almost instantly as Tobin greets her with a tight hug. She smells of sunshine and cookies, a perfume that Christen didn’t expect her to be wearing. 

“Hi,” Tobin sighs quietly into Christen’s shoulders, melting into her for a second. It’s easily the best hug Christen has ever had, warm and all-encompassing and just everything she didn’t know she needed. The last time she was hugged is suddenly a mystery, and Christen dares to hug Tobin back as she nearly cries with relief at the sudden and intimate human contact. It feels like it lasts for hours but it really only lingers for a few seconds, and Christen clears her throat of emotion as Tobin gradually lets go and pulls away. 

“Hi,” Christen says happily. “You clean up pretty well.”

“So do you,” Tobin says with a genuine smile, and it isn’t long before they’re waiting at the back of the line. It’s long, as predicted, but that just gives them time to talk. Any hint of awkwardness that Christen might have anticipated is completely absent, and things feel just as natural and relaxed as they have since the moment they met each other. Between the cold weather, the holiday decorations, and the excitement buzzing in the atmosphere, it’s easy to feel the excitement and difficult to restrain it. Christen has always been a fan of the holidays, but she’s spent just about every single one of them in southern California where going to the beach was not only common, but expected. Being in this city and experiencing it like this is closer to magical than anything Christen has ever experienced before. 

Tobin must sense this, because she listens patiently and watches with a small smile as Christen stands on her tiptoes in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the rink below and babbling on and on about her ice skating lessons as a kid. 

“I mean, most people wouldn’t expect me to actually be pretty decent on a rink, considering where I’m from,” Christen says, and Tobin just nods and looks at her with interest. Christen knows that some people babble when they’re nervous, but she tends to talk the most when she’s with people she’s comfortable with. It’s something that she doesn’t even realize happening until she’s halfway through the story of her third grade ice rink birthday party.

“That’s so cute,” Tobin says, and it’s truly miraculous, the way she smiles so big when she talks. “Like you just wanted to skate.”

Christen’s cheeks feel warm despite the persistent chill against them. 

“I wasn’t always the best at making friends,” she confesses. “I’m pretty sure my mom made me hand out invitations to the entire class, and they came because who wouldn’t, but I wasn’t very interested in hanging out with them. I kind of just skated the entire time and felt like crawling under the table when they all sang happy birthday to me.”

“You were probably a cute kid,” Tobin tells Christen as they slowly move up in line, hands shoved in their pockets to shield them from the cold. They’ve been standing close together, gravitating towards each other as they try to conserve body heat, and Christen almost wishes there was an excuse to stand even closer. She tries to ignore the part of her that wants that, though, instead arguing with Tobin over the best kind of hot chocolate. 

“I do not want peppermint in my hot chocolate!” Christen cries out, vaguely aware that her voice is climbing higher and louder as Tobin shamelessly laughs at her. “It’s not funny! Hot chocolate is supposed to be pure and chocolatey, not ruined by mint.”

“It’s really not that bad,” Tobin tries to say through her laughter. “I tried some yesterday at this little café and it was kind of amazing.”

“No way,” Christen refuses. “Not in this universe. I am not going to betray my taste buds by making them taste something so awful.”

“Fine, fine,” Tobin says, suddenly suspiciously nonchalant.

“So you agree with me?” Christen asks hopefully. 

“Oh, no,” Tobin says, still just as casual. “I’m sticking with my peppermint next time we get hot chocolate together. But you’re allowed to think your crazy thoughts.”

Christen pouts, but on the inside her heart is beating frantically as she thinks of there being a next time. And most importantly, of Tobin thinking that there will be a next time. 

“You’re being mean,” Christen mutters, turning away to hide the fact that her pouting is entirely for show.

“Aw, come on,” Tobin says. “I’m just teasing.”

“You hurt my feelings,” Christen says.

“I didn’t mean to!” Tobin cries out. “Christen, I’m sorry.”

Just as Christen is contemplating turning around and putting Tobin out of her misery, she feels warmth pressed up her back and wrapping around her midsection. 

“I’m sorry,” Tobin says, this time lower and softer as she hugs Christen from behind, her face resting against the back of her neck. Christen stiffens but then relaxes into the hug, into the warmth and satisfaction filling her body. “Your thoughts are perfectly normal and you’re allowed to like whatever you want.”

“Thank you,” Christen murmurs, and she isn’t quite sure what to do with herself besides rest her hands on Tobin’s arms and lean back as best as she can without toppling Christen over. 

“So you have to tell me your opinions on chocolate milk, then,” Tobin says, and Christen practically feel her grin behind her. 

Eventually they have to separate as the line moves forward, and then they’re putting on their skates before being allowed on the ice. Tobin looks at her skates with confusion, her feet inside but the laces a puddle on the ground. 

“Here,” Christen says, her laces already done up and tied tight. “Put your feet in my lap and I’ll do it for you – carefully, please! These things are sharp.”

Tobin just grins at her sheepishly and Christen nearly blushes before turning her attention to the skates. 

A little while later, once they’ve been on the ice for a couple of minutes, Christen is wondering whether Tobin’s even been skating before. She’s unexpectedly cautious as she steps along, like she’s walking rather than gliding. Christen just wants to glide round the rink like the ice princess she always wanted to be, but instead she’s wondering how this question never came up. They’d thoroughly discussed Christen’s skating experience, but had completely neglected to talk about Tobin’s. 

“Here, hold my hands,” Christen says, more than a little afraid of Tobin falling and busting something open. “I can help keep you steady.”

Tobin looks pretty close to frightened as she accepts Christen’s gloved hands, and even through all the fabric, they seem to fit together. They skate slowly, both quiet as Tobin concentrates, and Christen doesn’t mind too much as she goes backwards and watches Tobin wrinkle her nose in concentration. 

“I think I can do this on my own,” Tobin says after they’ve gone halfway around, looking up at Christen with determined eyes.

“Are you sure?” Christen asks dubiously.

“Yes,” Tobin says, and Christen tries not to be hurt by how easily their hands let go of each other. 

Christen watches as Tobin skates forward, a little off-balance and wobbly but managing to catch herself after stumbling. 

“You’ve really got to glide,” Christen explains, skating little circles around her, scrutinizing Tobin’s form and trying to figure out how she can help without doing it for her. “You’ve never really been skating before, have you.”

“I have!” Tobin says indignantly, looking personally affronted that Christen would dare to suggest a thing. “Plenty of times. I grew up in Jersey, you know.”

“Okay, okay,” Christen says, skidding to a graceful halt and putting her hands up in temporary surrender. “If you say so.” 

Tobin huffs, stopping for a second to shake out her arms and tear her beanie off, stuffing it into her pocket. 

“I’m getting warm out here,” she explains when she catches Christen looking. 

“Sure,” Christen says knowingly, nodding along. “I get it.”

Tobin looks like she’s about to stick out her tongue, but just pokes it into the side of her cheek instead as she starts to move again. 

Of course, she goes ahead and falls immediately. Christen is half amused and half horrified, bringing up a hand to cover her mouth as she attempts to hold in a laugh.

“This isn’t funny!” Tobin exclaims stubbornly, trying and failing to right herself. “Christen, come on. I’m cold and everything hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” Christen says, letting out a strangled noise as she extends a hand down for Tobin to grab onto. “I really am. But I had this awful feeling that you would fall, and then you did, and it was kind of hilarious.”

“Hilarious?” Tobin asks incredulously, looking up at Christen as she grips her hand. She pulls herself up, and Christen has to help her up, the two of them fighting gravity and slippery ice in order to succeed. Once upright, Tobin looks at her seriously, the two of them eye to eye and barely an inch apart in height. “Christen, I could have died down there.”

Christen is laughing immediately, collapsing against Tobin’s front. Tobin lets out an unexpected noise, stumbling slightly before wrapping her arms around Christen for support. 

“Careful,” Tobin says, as Christen keeps laughing, her belly aching with the force of it and feeling better than anything has in months. “If I go down, you’re coming with me.”

“I know, I know,” Christen says pulling away and wiping tear of mirth from the corners of her eyes. “God, it feels good to laugh like this.”

Tobin smiles, moving a hand from the small of Christen’s back to push hair away from her own face. 

“I know,” Tobin says, and it’s tender and happy. “I can’t stop smiling.”

“Neither can I,” Christen admits, and the two of them grin like a couple of idiots before deciding to start moving again. 

This time Tobin keeps a hold of Christen’s hands, and she listens to what Christen tells her what to do with her feet. 

“Now, I’ve never fallen on the ice,” Christen warns Tobin.

“Why does that not surprise me?” Tobin says, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “You’re probably such a little perfectionist, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little,” Christen hedges. “What I’m trying to say though, is that you better not end my perfect streak today.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Tobin promises. “I’d pinky promise with you right now, but I really don’t think I should let go of your hand for the time being.”

“Probably not,” Christen agrees.

Tobin trips once or twice, but Christen manages to be strong enough to catch her every time. The two of them manage to stay upright by some kind of miracle, maintaining a death grip even as Tobin starts to talk more and seems to forget about her complete inability to skate on her own. 

“Can we go a little faster?” Tobin begs, trying to push Christen along. “I want to feel the wind in my hair. 

It’s Christen’s turn to roll her eyes. “Put your beanie back on,” she tells Tobin. “And try to enjoy the fact that you’re not sitting on the ice like you could be.”

“Come on,” Tobin tries again. “Think of how much fun it would be! I know you can do it. I mean, you said you’re really good, right? And you never fall?”

Christen hesitates before answering. 

“I just want to be careful,” she says, but Tobin’s smiling at her with bright eyes and it’s hard to say no. 

“Our time is almost up anyway,” Tobin says. “We might as well make the most of it.”

So Christen slowly builds up their speed, the adrenaline flooding in as she remembers when she could race around rinks like it was no big deal. Pulling Tobin along isn’t that difficult, as she seems to have finally gotten the hang of it, and with them both laughing as they go, it’s the most fun Christen has had in ages. 

“I’m so glad we did this together,” Tobin tells her. 

“Me too,” Christen admits. “Thank you for the invite.”

“Listen,” Tobin says earnestly, staring at Christen intensely. “Anything you want to do? I’m there. Like this is the highlight of my week so far. I’m totally down for anything.”

“I didn’t really think I’d ever see you again,” Christen says bravely. “And I didn’t think I’d find someone willing to go skating with me, even though they’ve never been skating before.”

“I’ve totally skated before,” Tobin says stubbornly. “Maybe I just really wanted to hold your hands this entire time. Did you ever think about that?”

Christen wants to laugh but she also feels a little breathless, and she pauses for a second while Tobin continues to fly forward. It’s a recipe for disaster, Tobin crashing into her and sending them falling onto the ice. It’s comical, almost, how cliché it is, with Tobin sprawled all over her and their legs tangled so that Christen can’t even begin to figure out how they should get up. 

Of course, Tobin doesn’t seem concerned at all. She just beams down at Christen with her beautiful smile, winking just the smallest bit so that Christen isn’t sure if she saw it or if it was a figment of her imagination. 

“My head hurts,” Christen says. “What if I have a concussion?”

“I have to tell you something,” Tobin says, and she’s trying to be serious but it’s useless. “I don’t know how to skate.”

Christen groans as Tobin sits up, kneeling over Christen’s lower half. The contact is almost too much, and Christen is torn between relief at the release of weight from on top of her and regret at Tobin no longer being within potential accidental kissing distance.

“I figured that out back when I was helping you with your skates,” Christen grumbles, but Tobin is cracking up and it isn’t long before Christen follows. 

*

Maybe it’s wrong to be thinking like this, but Christen is pretty sure that Tobin is what’s keeping her sane in the last few days leading up to Christmas. 

There are tourists everywhere in the city, and it’s overwhelming to the point where Christen doesn’t leave her apartment if she can help it. Tobin texts her from the moment she wakes up to the moment she feels asleep, and in the back of her mind Christen is vaguely wondering if Tobin even has a job, or what she does during the day besides running each morning. She meets Christen for a quick lunch on Thursday, at a simple deli down the street from Christen’s office. Instead of spending the entire time checking the time, Christen actually lets herself relax and laugh and not worry about the mountain of paperwork waiting for her upstairs. 

Friday begins with more texts from both of them, but something with Tobin seems off. She starts taking a little longer to reply and Christen worries that maybe she said something wrong, or maybe she had a piece of lettuce stuck between her teeth at lunch yesterday and Tobin just can’t stand her anymore. Regardless, Christen keeps texting back, eyes constantly darting to her phone as she waits for replies and blames her jitters on her morning coffee. 

Sometime after noon, after Tobin mentions that she’s taking a train back to her parent’s town early tomorrow morning – Christmas Eve morning seems to be cutting it kind of close in Christen’s opinion, but as one without plans at all, she supposes she can’t exactly have an opinion – Christen finally gets an idea of why things have felt so awkward all day. 

_Going to a holiday party this evening, do you want to come with me?_

Christen feels a smile cross her face for the first time since she’d caught on to Tobin’s weird mood, and she doesn’t even hesitate before texting back. 

_Not sure I have anything to wear. Kind of short notice, you know?_

Tobin’s reply is immediate. 

_Nothing is always an option_

Christen nearly chokes on her coffee, and drops her phone as the screen shows that Tobin’s still typing. She dives under her desk to retrieve the device, and her face feels warm when she finally sits upright to read what else Tobin has to say. 

_Kidding. Anything is fine, it’s a casual party. Nothing fancy._

What the hell, Christen thinks, fingers tapping on the screen. She’s got nothing to lose, right? As long as she has Tobin she’ll be okay. 

Tobin comes over a little beforehand, claiming that she was picking something up in the same part of town. 

_Besides,_ she’d texted, _this way you won’t be wandering the streets alone. The place is kind of hard to find anyway._

So Christen panics a little once she gets home from work, leaving a little early in celebration of the holiday weekend. She showers and blow-dries her hair before carefully curling it, wrapping a white fuzzy robe around her as she contemplates the contents of her closet. She isn’t sure whether to wear a dress or nice jeans, so she wastes the time doing her makeup and singing along to her sister’s latest Spotify playlist. Of course, her phone rings just as she’s got nothing left to do except get dressed and place the finishing touches on herself. Christen can’t help but panic a little as she answers Tobin’s call, flipping through hangers upon hangers of dresses and praying that Tobin will take her time, allowing Christen to put some clothes on before she makes it to the apartment. She could always lock her out, but that doesn’t seem very polite. 

“Buzz me in,” is what Tobin greets Christen with, and Christen frowns and reconsiders locking the front door to give herself more time. 

“Hello to you too,” she says, but Tobin doesn’t buy it for a second. Good for her, because Christen isn’t actually all that bothered. 

“It’s cold out here,” Tobin explains, and Christen can nearly picture her pulling off her scarf as she stands in the enclosed building entrance, waiting for Christen to buzz her in. Christen takes her time though, giving her closet one last scrutinizing look before making her way down the hardwood hallway to the wall next to her front door. “I need to get up there and warm up before I decide to go ahead and fling myself into oncoming traffic.”

“Good luck finding oncoming traffic up here,” Christen says skeptically, going ahead and pressing the buzzer. She can hear Tobin flinging the door open on the other end of the phone, and Christen nearly flies back to her bedroom. 

“Yeah, why’d you have to live all the way up here anyway?” Tobin says, and Christen nearly groans as she hears Tobin running up the first flight of stairs. She’d forgotten what impeccable shape Tobin was in, and how these stairs are (mostly) a piece of cake for her. 

“Hanging up now,” Christen says.

“See you in a few,” Tobin says effortless into the speaker, and Christen hangs up and tries to ignore the thoughts in her mind that involve very deliberately waiting “a few” to get dressed and conveniently forgetting to close her bedroom door. 

She’s not sneaky enough for that, and definitely nowhere near bold enough. So Christen closes her door and turns the music up a bit, pulling her favorite sweater dress and tights from her closet. It’s a challenge to squeeze herself into the clothes before she hears Tobin clomping down the hallway, carefully knocking on the door just as Christen finishes adjusting things. 

“Hi,” Christen says, tucking her hair behind her ear as she opens the door. 

“Hi,” Tobin says, her cheeks pink and her voice breathless as she stares at Christen intensely. Christen’s eyebrows drawn together in confusion, wondering if Tobin had taken the stairs at a sprint or something else to explain her sudden exertion. 

“Are you okay?” Christen asks, and her hand jerks as if to press against Tobin’s cheeks and check for warmth. She forces herself to stay still though, focusing on Tobin’s glazed eyes and thinking that maybe she’s just caught a cold. 

“Yeah, fine,” Tobin says, her eyes traveling along the length of Christen’s body. 

“We’re not matching this time,” Christen jokes, trying to diffuse the unexpected tension, but Tobin doesn’t even seem to catch the tone of her voice. 

“Thank god,” Tobin says distractedly, eyes lingering on Christen’s legs. “I don’t think I would come out winning if I attempted to put those on.”

Christen refrains from laughing awkwardly, instead clearing her throat and waiting for Tobin to come back to earth. 

“They’re not half bad,” Christen mumbles, not sure if she should keep talking or not.

Tobin’s eyes find Christen’s, and there’s something in them that looks almost darker than Christen is used to. Maybe it’s just the lighting. 

“You look amazing,” Tobin tells Christen, who promptly ducks her head in embarrassment. 

“I literally just threw this on,” Christen tells her. 

“Well you still look amazing,” Tobin says, this time with more force behind it. 

“You look nice too,” Christen says, and it’s true. “I’m almost ready to go, just let me find some shoes.”

“And maybe a coat,” Tobin says as Christen turns around to return to the depths of her closet again. “Because as good as you look, it kind of is below freezing outside.”

“Okay, okay,” Christen says, biting her lip as she finishes getting dressed. Tobin leans against the doorjamb watching, and Christen tries her hardest not to be self-conscious as she sprays herself with perfume and fastens a bracelet around her wrist. Neither of them say anything until Christen is pulling her hair out of her coat collar and standing there, looking at Tobin and wondering if she’s ready to go.

“I kind of got you something,” Tobin says, and even while looking mildly embarrassed, she still manages to be a kind of confident that keeps Christen calm and collected. Her palms aren’t sweating like they usually do when she’s nervous, and just looking at Tobin makes her feel okay. 

“Like a present?” 

“Kind of,” Tobin says, fidgeting with something in her coat pocket. She’s been wearing it this whole time, hasn’t made to take it off, which is fair enough seeing as how they weren’t planning on staying long at all. They still aren’t planning on staying, and Christen is simultaneously hoping for a little more time alone together and for them to hurry and leave so that she doesn’t have to keep staring at the way Tobin keeps licking her chapped lips. “I couldn’t really call it that, but I do have something for you.”

“I’m a little confused,” Christen says with a bit of a laugh. “But also kind of worried because I didn’t get you anything.”

“Oh, no, it’s not like I thought you would,” Tobin says quickly. “Like I’m serious, this isn’t really a present.”

“Then what is it?” Christen asks, growing increasingly curious.

“This,” Tobin says, finally pulling something out of her pocket. It’s just a wad of white tissue paper that looks like it’s been thoroughly worn by Tobin’s fingers, and Christen takes it carefully before unwrapping whatever is inside. It’s a little sharp but pretty, a small sprig of mistletoe that feels cold, like Tobin was carrying it around outside. Something jerks behinds Christen’s navel and makes her face grow warm as she realizes what it is and who has given it to her. 

“Mistletoe?” Christen verifies, holding up the green plant and looking into Tobin’s sheepish eyes. 

“Yeah,” Tobin says. “Sometimes you can find the ones with red berries but I could only get the white ones, and I figured it was better than nothing.”

“Mistletoe,” Christen says again, but this time it’s more of a statement. “Where’d you find it?”

“Just this little grocery store,” Tobin explains. “I had to stop in to buy wine – which is chilling on your kitchen table, don’t let me forget it – and I saw it and just thought it might cheer this place up. Since you know, you don’t have a live tree or any greenery, really, I thought you could use some mistletoe at the very least.”

Christen’s heart falls a bit at the explanation, but she just smiles at Tobin and makes to edge past her.

“So where should I put it?” she asks, going to her kitchen and searching through the drawers. “In a doorway, or just anywhere?”

“Definitely in a doorway,” Tobin says almost instantly. “You’ve got to be traditional about it.”

“Of course,” Christen agrees, finding string and her scissors, this time where they belong, so that she can tie a loop around the mistletoe. “So, pick a doorway for me.”

“What are our options?” Tobin asks aloud, turning to survey the small apartment. “Obviously not the second bedroom.”

“Obviously,” Christen agrees readily. 

“And not the bathroom door either.”

“Right.”

“What about leading to the apartment?” Tobin suggests. “Like, right inside your front door?”

Christen hums at the suggestion, looking at the doorway in question as she tries to figure out a way to hang the mistletoe. She could always wait to get a proper hook or something, but Christmas is only a couple of days away and there’s no point in waiting. Besides, she’s got a roll of Scotch tape – she’s never been so thankful for being the kind of person who is prepared for anything and everything – and a chair that will let her reach the ceiling in seconds. 

“Sounds like a plan,” Christen tells Tobin, and it only takes about ten seconds to drag a chair over and secure the mistletoe to the ceiling. Tobin goes and puts the chair back where it belongs while Christen fastens up her coat, buttoning it to the top in anticipation of the below-freezing temperatures outside.

“You forgot the wine,” Christen tells Tobin as she comes back over, her stride purposeful, like she’s ready to get going.

“No I didn’t,” Tobin says, and her eyes flicker upwards before she’s leaning in close, eyes catching Christen’s for a millisecond before she crushes their lips together. 

Christen isn’t sure that she’s ever felt sparks before, but here on the night before Christmas Eve, standing under a mistletoe with butterflies in her stomach and electricity in her fingertips, she understands what it’s like to experience fireworks. It’s a gentle kiss, a soft one, but it’s magical all the same. Tobin kisses persistently, her lips chapped but pillowy as she moves closer and adjusts herself now that she’s not coming at Christen, now that Christen is kissing her back through a bit of a surprised daze. 

She’s been wanting this since she first saw Tobin, Christen has. Tobin had been so effortlessly attractive and cool and confident, and Christen has worked so hard to see past that and focus on their growing friendship, not wanting to jeopardize her first real friendship in the city in favor of an attraction that may or may not have been returned, that could have been fleeting, that could have not been worth it. It feels like a miracle that Tobin is kissing her now, kissing her bottom lip with minimal hesitance as Christen leans further in and tries to burn the sensation of Tobin’s hands on her face into her brain. 

Tobin cradles her face tenderly, her hands large and warm as one thumb rubs along Christen’s cheekbone. The kiss isn’t particularly passionate, but that’s okay. They’re just getting used to the sensation of their lips pressed together, of Tobin’s sudden intake of breath every time Christen chases her lips, of Christen’s fingers as they grip onto the fabric of Tobin’s jacket lapels. It’s almost sweet, a kiss that signals a beginning and promises many more to come. It’s exciting and exhilarating, and Christen’s heart is racing while Tobin wordlessly reassures her that this is what she wants to be doing. 

It doesn’t last long, just a few minutes. Christen wouldn’t even dare to call it anything close to making out, but when she draws back, it’s with haze in her eyes that she has to blink away. Tobin looks mildly embarrassed, quite uncharacteristically, and Christen almost asks if she did something wrong, but then Tobin is jerking her chin upwards and speaking. 

“Mistletoe,” she says abashedly. “Don’t the rules of mistletoe dictate that I have to kiss you?”

Realization dawns on Christen, the way it did on the ice rink. 

“You bought me that mistletoe so you could kiss me.”

“I did no such thing,” Tobin says, but she’s grinning from ear to ear as she moves to finally retriever her wine.

“Right,” Christen says, and this time the two of them manage to pass through the front entrance without locking lips. “Of course not.”

“You can’t prove a thing,” Tobin declares as they start down the stairs, door locked behind them. 

But when Christen throws a glance over her shoulder, she sees Tobin’s smiles and she knows, just knows that Tobin fully intended to kiss her all along. The mistletoe was just an excuse. 

*

That knowledge carries Christen along their journey through Manhattan, to where there’s a swanky brownstone with three floors and seemingly a thousand people crammed inside. There doesn’t even seem to be a need for heat, all the bodies generating enough to keep the place more than warm. Tobin doesn’t stop for anyone though, shaking people off and cradling the wine close as she climbs the first set of stairs, and then the second. The top floor seems to be the main bedroom of the house, a sort of loft situation that makes Christen think it could be a converted attic. But she suddenly has more questions than she has answers, and she isn’t sure where to begin. 

“Where are we?” Christen asks. “Are we allowed to be up here?”

Tobin hesitates halfway through kicking her ankle boots off, leaving her with one socked foot that exposes the too-short hem of her jeans. 

“Christen,” Tobin says, looking uncomfortable. “I live here.”

Christen had suspected as much, but it’s nice to hear it confirmed. She’d had a feeling that they were headed to wherever Tobin lived, but since they’d started down the expensive street she’d wondered if maybe she’s bitten off more than she could chew. 

“Pretty nice,” Christen says, looking around the room as she slowly sheds her coat, carefully placing it on the back of a chair piled high with sports bras. There’s a constructed closet with clothes and shoes spilling out of it, and a door that leads to a bathroom with a light still on inside. Tobin seems to be messy but not purposely so – more like she can’t be bothered to put things back where they belong when they might as well belong on the floor. The bed is large and open, a nice duvet pulled up beneath a mountain of mismatched pillows that somehow manage to work together. The wood floors are new but obviously professionally worn and it’s all straight out of a Restoration Hardware magazine, making Christen uneasy as she chuckles. 

“My parents have money,” Tobin blurts out. “And I didn’t want to say anything or invite you back here because it’s embarrassing.”

“Ah,” Christen says, not sure what an appropriate response would be.

Tobin tosses the wine on the bed and finishes taking off her other shoe, her jacket following. 

“It’s embarrassing because they’re the ones paying for my life until I finally make up my mind and decide what I want to do with it,” Tobin explains. “I mean, I went to college and got a degree and everything. I just don’t know what I want to do.”

“That’s okay,” Christen says with a shrug. “Not everyone gets it right right away.”

Admittedly, they’re a little too old to still be figuring things out, but Christen isn’t judging Tobin. 

“Moving out of my sister’s apartment was supposed to be a nudge in the right direction,” Tobin says, and Christen suddenly gets it. She sees the slight vulnerability, glimpses of which she’s barely gotten so far. “But I keep putting it off.”

“There’s no time limit on this kind of thing,” Christen says, doing her best to be reassuring. “There’s no timeline. I was still living with my parents before I decided to travel the western hemisphere.”

Tobin exhales shakily, rolling her shoulders out and offering Christen a tentative grin. 

“You’re just this awesome girl,” Tobin says, and she’s suddenly back to being earnest and collected. “Who travels the world and moves across the country all by herself, just because she wants to. Because she’s brave enough to do crazy things like that. Meanwhile I’m just some girl who’s too scared to do what she really wants to.”

“I think that you’re the awesome one,” Christen says quietly as Tobin sits on the edge of the bed, looking up at her with something akin to admiration. “You’re so confident and calm and you’re never freaking out like I am. And look at all the people in your house – you have so many friends, so many people who care about you, and I couldn’t even make a single friend in this city before you came along. It’s kind of a miracle that you’ve stuck around as long as you have.”

“Christen,” Tobin says, a hint of amusement in her voice. “No offense, but I’ve known you for like, less than a week.”

“I know,” Christen says. “And you keep wanting to hang out with me for some reason.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to?” Tobin asks genuinely. 

“Because I’m not awesome,” Christen says with a self-deprecating laugh. “I work some boring office job to pay rent, I don’t have anything to do for Christmas because I decided to stick myself with two dogs who hate to be without me and are too expensive to fly back to California, and I’m too busy feeling sorry for myself to change anything.”

Tobin just stares up at Christen with her hands loosely clasped in her lap, expression tinged with knowing and compassion.

“You are awesome,” Tobin says, and her easy demeanor makes it so easy for Christen’s frustration to evaporate just as it appears. “You’re so pretty and nice and just a good person, and you’re funny and I love talking to you. To top it all off, you’re not a bad kisser either.”

“Not bad?” Christen asks, pretending to be outraged as she feels the residual tension leave her shoulders. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“Well, I didn’t really get a chance to kiss you all that much, so,” Tobin says with a shrug and a hint of a smile that belies her nonchalance. 

“Is that so?” Christen asks, rolling her eyes as she pretends to take a step back. “I was going to give a second chance here, but now I’m not so sure.”

Tobin groans lowly, reaching out with grabby hands. 

“Listen,” she says, whining just a little. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you since the moment I saw you, but I had to restrain myself because I didn’t want to scare you off.”

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I saw you too,” Christen confesses as she slowly edges closer. “But you seemed like you could be a real friend to me and I didn’t want to ruin that.”

“The only way you could have ruined anything would be if you were a terrible kisser,” Tobin tells her.

Christen stands between Tobin’s spread legs, Tobin’s hands burning into the skin of her waist through the fabric of her dress. 

“Is this why you brought me up here?” Christen teases, resting a hand on Tobin’s shoulder. “To kiss me some more? Because you could have kept doing that under the mistletoe, you know?”

“I needed to at least show my face here,” Tobin explains, guiding Christen lower until she’s within reach. 

“Then this probably isn’t the best use of your time,” Christen murmurs.

“This is the best possible use of my time,” Tobin mumbles, pressing her lips against Christen’s. 

*

Fifteen minutes later, Christen’s hair is a mess and Tobin’s lips are sufficiently kiss-swollen. They make their way downstairs and Christen feels strangely comfortable, with her boots upstairs and Tobin’s hand in hers. Tobin pulls her through the crowd, saying hi to people who greet her but making it clear that she’s on a mission and doesn’t have time to stop. They end up in the kitchen where Tobin grabs the both of them a beer, reluctantly releasing Christen’s hand so she can open the bottles. 

“So you didn’t tell me that this was your holiday party,” Christen says, only half present. The other half of her is back upstairs, partially straddling Tobin and making out like teenagers. 

“I figured it was implied,” Tobin says with a sideways grin. “Really, I was trying to be discreet about finally getting you back to my place.”

Christen flushes, tilting her beer back for a sip. 

“Seriously, though,” Tobin says. “When do you have to get back to the dogs?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re kind of like Cinderella,” Tobin teases, something darker in her eyes than usual. “And I want to know if you’ve got to head home at midnight.”

“The dogs should be good for a while,” Christen tells Tobin. “They’re housetrained.”

“Good,” Tobin says, and she leans in for another kiss that lingers far longer than it should.

“So,” Christen says, pulling away and clearing her throat. “Should you like, go mingle with your guests?”

Tobin groans. 

“I mean, I probably should,” she says, hand searching out for Christen’s again. “Come with me?”

Tobin makes her way through everyone with Christen close behind, hands tangled together so that they’re never more than an arm’s length apart. Christen gets introduced to everyone, and while all of Tobin’s friends seem perfectly nice as they make sure to include her in their conversations, she doesn’t miss the glances their joined hands get. She doesn’t mind too much though as she finishes her beer, Tobin taking a break from socializing to go back to the kitchen with Christen in tow and mix them mason jars full of some sort of red punch sitting on the counter. 

“Is this safe?” Christen asks, gingerly sniffing the contents of her jar and wondering if the girl she’s been dying to kiss is a secret hipster. 

“My friends are cool,” Tobin promises, and Christen just raises her eyebrows at that. 

She gets introduced to Tobin’s sister and her fiancé. Perry doesn’t miss the way Tobin stares at Christen a little too long, and sends her younger sister a look that clearly says they’ll be discussing this tomorrow. Christen tries to keep her cool and not be shy and it’s hard but she thinks she’s doing okay. After a couple hours of mingling with everyone, Christen can feel the sweat dripping down her back and wonders what time it is. This whole night has gone better than she thought it would and she’s liking more Tobin more than she ever anticipated, but she can’t help but want to be alone with her. She waits it out though, patiently sipping at her red drink and refusing to let go of Tobin’s hand. 

They get a moment to themselves though, finally. Nobody approaches them as they collapse on one of Tobin’s couches, and Christen can’t wait for the chance to hang out here without everyone crammed in between the walls. Tobin sets their drinks on the table in front of them, temporarily breaking their physical contact, but then she’s draping a leg over Christen’s and burying a face into her neck. 

“God, this sucks,” she exhales into Christen’s neck. She has to be loud due to the sheer volume of everyone talking about them and the music that someone seems to be filtering through a Bluetooth speaker, but the desired effect is still there. Goosebumps still spring up along the column of Christen’s neck, and it is sweet relief in the heat of the room. 

“Why?” Christen asks, daring to reach up a hand and stroke it through Tobin’s tangled hair. 

“Because I just want to be kissing you instead of this,” Tobin complains, pulling back to look at Christen. “Why are we even here?”

“Because this is your party,” Christen reminds her. “Still not sure how that’s happening, but it’s at your place, so.”

“Perry was in charge,” Tobin grumbles, slumping against Christen’s side. “I told her I’d be running late because I didn’t want to do anything. She won’t have parties at her place because she’s in full wedding planning mode and doesn’t want anyone touching her precious wedding binders, so I told her we could have a party here. And yeah, all my friends are here, but it’s not really a holiday party.”

“I kind of pictured more Christmas songs and cookie decorating,” Christen tells her. 

“I told everyone to bring their own alcohol,” Tobin says with a shrug as a way of explanation. “No one is going to get too drunk except for Kelley, but she always does that.”

Christen nods as if she understands. 

“So is that why you had the bottle of wine?” Christen asks.

“Crap!” Tobin exclaims, sitting up straight. “I forgot about that!”

Christen giggles, daring to place a hand on Tobin’s leg, right above her knee. 

“It’s okay,” she says. “Save it for another time.”

“Will do,” Tobin says, leaning in for a kiss. Christen indulges her – really, she wants to kiss Tobin just as much – for a few long seconds, relishing the sugary taste on her lips. 

“I might have to call it a night,” Christen says regretfully. 

Tobin pouts. 

“The dogs?”

“The dogs,” Christen confirms. 

Tobin can’t hide the legitimate disappointment on her face. 

“I don’t want you to leave,” she confesses. 

“I don’t want to leave either,” Christen says. “But I’ll see you after Christmas, right?”

“Yeah,” Tobin says, but she still looks horribly downtrodden. “Do you have to leave now?”

“I should at least go up and get my things,” Christen says, glancing at the stairs. “It takes about a million years to go up and down.”

Tobin playfully elbows her. 

“Don’t make fun of my place.”

“I would never,” Christen swears, smiling brightly. 

“I’ll come up with you,” Tobin says, and the two of them pad up the wooden stairs, managing to not get stopped along the way. Once in Tobin’s room, the sounds of the party have died away almost completely. It’s like a whole other world up there, and Christen makes the mistake of going over to the window at the end of the room, peeking out into the city and gasping once she sees the frost on the window. 

“I think it’s going to snow,” Christen says, and she feels Tobin behind her, rising up onto her tiptoes and resting her chin on Christen’s shoulder. 

Tobin hums in consideration. 

“Maybe,” she says. “It’s in the forecast, but a white Christmas seems to be too good to be true.”

“It could happen,” Christen says hopefully, thinking that maybe a white Christmas might salvage that fact that she’ll be spending the holiday with her dogs. 

“I hope it does,” Tobin says softly, and Christen turns around to look her in the eye. 

“Thank you,” she says sincerely. “For everything.”

Tobin just kisses her in response. 

“Don’t leave,” she begs, as Christen pulls away to gather her things. “So what if the dogs pee on the floor? Doesn’t kissing me mean anything to you?”

“You should hang out with your friends,” Christen says. “You’ve been with me this entire time. Besides, you’re leaving in the morning and I’ll bet my entire paycheck that you haven’t packed yet.”

“I’m not stupid enough to take that bet,” Tobin says sullenly. 

Christen grins despite herself. 

“I’ll see you when you get back,” she promises Tobin, fastening her coat and pulling on her boots. “Okay?”

“Let me come with you,” Tobin tries. “I don’t really need to be here. And it takes me five minutes to pack. Here, I can do it before we go.”

“Stay with your friends,” Christen tries to convince her. “I’ll be okay.”

Tobin has never looks as unhappy as she does in this moment, but Christen draws her in close for a tight hug. 

“I’m not happy about this,” Tobin mumbles. 

“As soon as you get back,” Christen promises her. “You can come and see me.”

She leans in for a kiss, one that she intends to be gentle and short, but Tobin has other ideas. 

Tobin kisses her deeply, all intensity and passion and want and it makes shivers shoot down Christen’s spine. It wasn’t long before Christen’s mouth was being coaxed open, with Tobin running her tongue along Christen’s lips. It was easy to lose herself in the kiss, Christen thought, shrugging off the last of her shyness and doing her best to give as good as she was getting. She tangles her hands in Tobin’s hair and Tobin runs her hands up and down Christen’s sides, and it all feels like a dream to Christen. 

They stand there like that for what feels like forever, just kissing and holding each other. Hands roam and Christen explores the way Tobin’s broad shoulders taper in to a narrow waist, moaning into Tobin’s mouth and fueling the fire. Tobin doesn’t even bother holding back, kissing greedily and even letting a hand grip Christen’s ass. When Christen finally ends the kiss, it’s a little abrupt and mostly because she doesn’t think she can take any more of this without giving in completely. 

“I really can’t stay,” Christen gasps, feeling hot all over and not just because of the coat she’s had on. 

“Don’t go,” Tobin pleads. “It’s cold outside and I’ll give you pajamas and we can hide out up here and ignore everyone – “

“I have to go,” Christen says, and it kills her to do it, but she has to separate from Tobin completely in order to summon the willpower to leave the room. 

Tobin walks her downstairs, following her out the front door and standing on the top of the steps in a thin sweater and socks. 

“It’s snowing,” Christen says proudly, watching as fat snowflakes fall down. 

“It is,” Tobin relents. “You were right.”

“I have a good feeling about this snow,” Christen says, and it all reminds her of the way they stood on her front stoop less than a week ago. “It’s not going to be like the last one. It’s going to stick around.”

“If you say so,” Tobin says with a sigh, and with Christen looks at her, it’s hard to miss the complete look of reverence on her face. Christen falters, not knowing what to do now. 

“Talk to me while you’re gone?” Christen asks tentatively, and Tobin nods enthusiastically. They’re quick to gather each other up in their arms, and Christen sighs into their embrace. 

“You’re so pretty,” Tobin murmurs, kissing Christen softly. “I can’t believe I’m letting you leave me.”

Christen’s heart feels fit to burst as she kisses back. 

“You’ll be back,” she tells Tobin. “And as soon as you are, come see me.”

“I will,” Tobin vows. “You’re going to be my first stop. I’m not even going home first.”

They stand there, kissing in the falling snow and ignoring the cold. Christen’s never experienced a more magical moment in her life, and she wishes it didn’t have to end. 

Eventually it does though, when Tobin begins shivering in Christen’s arms. Goodbyes linger and Christen slowly makes her way home, shaking off the fog and feeling like she’s going through the motions as she lets herself into her apartment and takes the dogs for a walk. Once she’s inside and bundled into bed, glasses on and face washed with a cup of hot chocolate on her nightstand and the dogs curled up on the foot of the bed, Christen’s phone buzzes with a text from Tobin.

She falls asleep like that, happy and warm and feeling like Tobin is just a few words away. 

*

Christen resolves to never let this happen again. Next year she’s going to save and make sure she can go home for the holidays so that she doesn’t end up cooking for herself on Christmas Eve and Facetiming her family as they all open presents without her. She laughs with them, up way too early and wrapped in a throw blanket on her couch on Christmas morning. Morena and Khaleesi do their best to comfort her as she turns on the tv and drifts in and out of sleep. The snow outside refuses to fade, resting in large piles of fluff and Christen thinks that maybe tomorrow would be a nice day to take the dogs to the park. Tobin is supposed to get back tomorrow, coming back to the city with her sister who has work to get to on Tuesday. 

It’s been a week since she met Tobin, and Christen smiles at a blurry snapshot of Tobin’s Christmas morning. She stares at it for far longer than necessary, studying everything from the giant tree in the background to the matching pajamas Tobin and her brother are wearing. It’s cute and Christen does the best she can with what she has, turning on the twinkly lights and heating up leftovers when her stomach starts growling a little before noon. Tobin texts sporadically – understandable, considering the occasion – and Christen falls asleep sometime after responding to one about the chocolate pie that Tobin has her eye on for dessert. 

The day drags on and Christen only ventures out of her apartment to walk the dogs. She wakes from her nap to text Tobin and take out Morena and Khaleesi, sleepy and cold as she stands still and shivers while waiting for them to do their business. Once inside again, it’s back to the couch and attempting to stay awake long enough to compose a text to Tobin about how she’s pretty sure she’s in a turkey breast coma. 

She falls asleep before she can press send. 

When Christen wakes up again, it’s growing dark outside and the dogs are suspiciously quiet. Everything feels blissfully warm and soft, a pillow under her head and the blanket wrapped around her. She blinks a few times, and it isn’t immediately that she realizes something is off. By the time she registers that there’s someone sitting at the opposite end of her couch, Christen’s eyes have adjusted enough to realize who it is, preventing her from panicking. 

“How’d you get in here?”

Tobin smiles, setting her phone aside and turning her focus to Christen. 

“You should really lock the door behind you,” she tells her. She looks beautiful, her hair brushed for once and held back by a colorful headband. 

“Probably forgot to after I took the girls out,” Christen says, stifling a yawn. “What about the building?”

“One of your neighbors was coming out,” Tobin says. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I miss you,” Tobin says tenderly. “And I couldn’t stop thinking about being here with you.”

The unsaid words ring in the silence that follows, the comments about Christen being along on the one holiday a year people shouldn’t have to be. Thinking about this, goes straight to Christen’s heart and it hurts a little. She feels almost pitied by Tobin, a feeling that makes her sadder than she should be considering the newfound circumstances, but knowing that Tobin doesn’t pity her at all makes it relatively easy to shake off. 

“What about your family?”

“They’re all passed out, just like you,” Tobin says, teasing a little as she leans over Christen’s body in an attempt to get closer. Christen tucks her legs in, trying to give Tobin more room. “I thought I was on my way to something more exciting, but I got here and you were sound asleep. Imagine my disappointment.”

“I’m tired,” Christen protests weakly. “I stayed up late last night to open presents with my family who is on the west coast, in case you forgot.”

“Ah,” Tobin says, nodding wisely. “That makes sense.”

Faint awkwardness clogs the air between them, and Christen wonders if it’s Tobin’s doing or hers. 

“Thank you for being here,” she finally works up the nerve to say. “I wasn’t expecting it.”

“There wasn’t anywhere else I really wanted to be,” Tobin says casually, like it’s a simple fact. “I stayed long enough to eat – I brought some pie, by the way, my mom is going to kill me when she sees that it’s missing – and then figured I might as well come on over.”

“Don’t you have stuff to do with them?” Christen wants to know, scrambling for a reason that this shouldn’t be happening, that it is too good to be true. “I mean, you should be home.”

“Nah,” Tobin says, shaking her head. “Normally we wake up and just chill together and everyone starts to go back to their own homes, you know? The fun part is over.”

“So you’ve come to me for your entertainment,” Christen jokes, rolling onto her back and tilting her head up to still look at Tobin. She’s starting to feel okay, like it’s okay that Tobin is here.

“Exactly,” Tobin says, her smile warm and bright as she slowly moves, crawling on top of Christen. “I was kind of thinking about how nice it would be to just kind of hang out with you.”

“Oh, is that all you want?” Christen teases. “To hang out?”

“Yes,” Tobin says. 

“Because you can do that all the way over there,” Christen informs her, pointing behind Tobin to the far side of the couch and in the direction of the armchair. 

Tobin rolls her eyes. 

“Fine,” she huffs, squashing her elbows around as she tries to get comfortable on top of Christen. Tobin smells like snow and vanilla and Christen tries not to get lost in her very being. “I came here to cuddle.”

“Just cuddle?”

“And maybe make out with you a little,” Tobin relents, and it’s like pulling teeth but Christen loves it. 

“Make out a little,” Christen says. “I think I could maybe manage a little of that.”

Tobin whines, finally giving in to capture Christen’s lips with hers. She’s aggressive and nippy and it’s not as much of a kiss as it is Christen smiling while Tobin determinedly attempts to claim some territory, but it’s enough to light Christen on fire and resolve to not question Tobin’s presence anymore. 

“Maybe a lot of that,” Tobin decides once she backs off, pulling her head up to look down at Christen while letting their bodies melt together. 

“I still think it’s creepy that you let yourself into my apartment,” Christen reminds her. 

“And I think it’s creepy that you leave your front door unlocked in New York City,” Tobin responds easily. “I really need to teach you a thing or two about living here.”

“But not until after that cuddling,” Christen bargains. 

“Agreed,” Tobin says. “And maybe some of that making out. That definitely needs to happen first.”

“Making out,” Christen says, humming contemplatively. “Is that why your hands are sneaking under my sweater?”

“Yes,” Tobin says enthusiastically. “I’m very hands on about this kind of thing.” She then pauses, looking at Christen with a slightly freaked expression. “As long as you’re okay with that.”

“Trust me,” Christen tells her, reaching a hand into Tobin’s hair. She can’t wait to ruin it, to turn it all into a tangled mess, just the way she likes it. “I am very okay with that.”

Tobin grins and kisses her again, but stops after a few brief moments. 

“Wait,” Tobin says. 

Christen groans internally. 

“What are you waiting for?” she asks. 

“Merry Christmas,” Tobin tells her, turning to kiss the corner or her mouth. 

Christen smiles, relaxing into the couch. 

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” she says, and that’s all Tobin has time for before she’s on her, a mess of sloppy kisses and traveling hands and the knowledge that maybe everything is going to be okay. 

Maybe Christen is better at all this than she thought.

**Author's Note:**

> drop me a review or talk to me about this at softanticipation.tumblr.com !


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